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I get the button open on his jeans and I'm pulling down the zipper when, "Detective Butler?" It's my next interview.
Dalton whips my bedside book and knocks my bedroom door shut. I chuckle.
"Casey?" the voice calls from downstairs. "Are you okay?"
"God-fucking-damn--"
I cut Dalton's curse short with a kiss. I start to roll off him, and he tries to grab me back, but I whisper, "Dawson City. One private room. Eight uninterrupted hours," as footsteps sound on the stairs.
"Casey?"
"Just a sec!" I call.
Dalton grabs me and tugs me back onto him. "He'll wait five minutes."
"Kinda want more than five minutes, sheriff."
He gives an abashed, "Yeah, sorry. Fuck."
He rolls off the bed, gives me a quick smack of a kiss, and then grabs his shirt and walks out, still pulling it on, to the sputtered apologies of whoever is in the hall. I wince and shake my head. Apparently we aren't keeping this a secret from anyone.
I put my bra and shirt on, then call, "Come in," and start my morning of interviews.
SIXTY
I have three interviews scheduled and two additional people show up, not with anything significant to add, but trying to be helpful, and I don't want to discourage that. When Dalton brings lunch, I'm talking to someone who recalls seeing Mick the night of his death. She spotted him walking toward the woodshed. Yeah, like I said, not useful, but I listen and thank her for her time as Dalton waits impatiently outside the door.
We go downstairs and dine on the back deck. I'm telling Dalton a story about the chase of a seventy-year-old wannabe graffiti artist when Isabel walks around my house.
"Ah," she says. "That's what that sound was. Eric laughing. I do believe I've never heard it before."
Dalton shoots her the finger.
She walks over and eyes us, sitting hip to hip, Dalton's hand on my knee.
"Well, well," she says. "The rumours are true, then. Interesting."
"
You want something?" he says.
"Good afternoon to you, too, sheriff. No, I don't want anything from you. I came to speak to Casey about her investigation."
I tense, and Dalton gets to his feet.
"Down, boy," she says. "I'm not here to harass your detective." She lifts a folder she's carrying. "I found this in Mick's things, and I thought it might be important."
I check my watch.
"Yes, you have time for me, Casey," she says.
"I'm checking Eric's time." I turn to him. "It's almost one. You'd better go take that council call. I'll handle this."
He gives Isabel a look.
"I'll behave myself," she says.
"You better. Casey's been stabbed three times. Doesn't need your shit." He turns to me. "She gives you a hard time? Radio Will and have her locked in the cell."
